


The Seat of Controversy

by azephirin



Series: As Certain Dark Things [15]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, As Certain Dark Things, Barebacking, Cuddling and Snuggling, Curtain Fic, D/s, Domestic, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot, Power Play, Sequel, Spanking, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-21
Updated: 2010-02-21
Packaged: 2017-10-07 10:45:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azephirin/pseuds/azephirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sam will invariably get his way, and Dean should never be allowed to go shopping alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Seat of Controversy

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this post](http://mickeym.livejournal.com/1100271.html) of [](http://mickeym.livejournal.com/profile)[**mickeym**](http://mickeym.livejournal.com/)'s (and the accompanying picture!), and originally posted in much shorter form as a comment. This is set in the same universe with [As Certain Dark Things](http://archiveofourown.org/works/51307) and its sequels, and takes place at some point in the indeterminate future. This is enough of a PWP, though, that you probably don't need to be familiar with the rest of the 'verse.

Sam complained and complained about the chair until finally Dean bent him over it and spanked him.

When they got their own place, they had to get some real furniture. Dean, for some inexplicable reason, fell in love with this hideous, battered olive-green easy chair that he found at a thrift store somewhere—an illustration, in Sam's mind, for why Dean should never be allowed to go shopping alone. Dean claims that it's comfortable, and Sam guesses that's true, but it's nowhere near comfortable enough to make up for how ugly it is. Sam tried to talk Dean out of it, and when that didn't work, settled for covering the thing with sheets, which Dean invariably removed.

Then today, after they got home from some errands, Dean told him to undress and bend over the back of the chair.

+||+||+

 

Dean spanks him first with his hand, slow sharp slaps that alternate from side to side until Sam's ass feels like it's glowing with the sweet, almost liquid heat that a spanking brings. Sam closes his eyes and lets himself fall into it—until Dean says, "Don't move," and Sam hears him walk away.

He wants to reach around and rub his ass, wants to look in the mirror and see whether it's pink yet. He also wants to reach down and stroke his already-insistent erection, and so he does.

"Did I say you could do that?"

No, of course not.

"Don't touch, don't come. No matter how much you want to. You don't come until I say you can."

Dean pats his hip, and Sam knows what that means. He straightens his back, raises his ass—and feels the paddle crack against it.

Sam likes it solid, steady, not too fast, not too slow, and that's just how Dean gives it to him. A few minutes, and it's almost too much: Sam wants to come so badly that he's trembling with it. He could wrap his hand around his cock, about two seconds and he'd be painting the back of the chair with ejaculate (which is probably the best use for that abomination, he can't help thinking), but Dean told him not to. There aren't many people in this world that Sam has any interest in obeying, and he knows that Dean will love him no matter what he does, but that isn't the point. The point is that he wants to be right here, naked, bent over, and submissive, because Dean told him to.

Sam hears Dean put down the paddle before he runs a finger down Sam's spine. "You're not going to come, are you?"

"N-no," is all Sam can manage.

Dean slides his hand down to rest on the hot skin of Sam's ass, then to rub gently against Sam's hole. Sam pushes back against Dean's fingers with a breathed, "Please," but Dean doesn't let them go inside, just rubs at the surface.

Sam hears Dean take something from the table, and then Dean's fingers are back, slick and knowing. "I'm going to open you up like this," Dean tells him, "and then I'm going to fuck you. But you're still not allowed to come, not until I do. Do you understand?"

Dean's massaging his prostate, rubbing back and forth until Sam's crying out and the only thing he can manage is another "please."

Suddenly Dean's fingers are gone, and Sam whimpers in protest.

"I said, do you understand?"

Sam spreads his legs, tilts his ass up, anything to tempt Dean to fuck him again—fingers or cock, he almost doesn't care as long as there's something inside him. "Yes," he gasps. "Yes, I understand. I won't come. Dean, please!"

Dean is thick and hard, and Sam moans as he takes him in. He hopes Dean doesn't last long, because all he wants to do is come around Dean's cock, listen to Dean's climax and then shudder out his own until he's limp, spent, and satisfied.

+||+||+

 

After, they curl up together on the couch, holding each other as they catch their breath. Sam's drawing absent-minded circles on Dean's stomach when it occurs to him that the back of the chair is likely covered in Sam's come—and that Dean probably won't remember to check it. Just as well, Sam thinks, and hides a smile against Dean's shoulder. Maybe the stain will finally convince Dean to get rid of the chair, because God knows that monstrosity isn't worth a cleaning bill.


End file.
